


here all night, we'll be alright

by Waistcoat35



Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [23]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35
Summary: 24 - "Just because."
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772770
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	here all night, we'll be alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qetbackhonkycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qetbackhonkycat/gifts), [TheDancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDancer/gifts).



> This is literally so soppy so I should probably apologise for that but I ✨refuse✨ because I think it's something we need in a horror show of a year.
> 
> Dedicated to rubes and aba for being lovelyyy

They've already exchanged their own presents to one another, curling up in front of the tree downstairs with the fire built high next to them. (Perhaps more than necessary even on such a cold evening, but Thomas soaks up warmth like a sponge and so Richard seems to refuse to stop indulging him.) It is, technically, no longer Christmas- two days after, in fact, because getting away from the Abbey on Christmas Day had seemed too much for Thomas to manage after already having time off this year so often. Richard has by some miracle managed four days off in a row, from the day itself to the one after tomorrow, on the principle of having not had Christmas off for the last five years.

He has already spent Christmas day with his family (and only Thomas' insistence that he should have longer with his nieces and nephews and that they were seeing each other the next evening anyway had stopped him from borrowing his brother's car and calling in then anyway) and filled Thomas in on everything subsequently. Thomas had curled up on the floor beside him, shoulders tucked under his arm, cheek nestled against Richard's shoulder as he listened to his anecdotes with eyes only half open like a contented cat, folded legs surrounded by wrapping paper remnants. After a bit he had begun to doze, and as much as Richard loves letting him fall asleep on him, the position hadn't exactly been the most comfortable, and so Thomas had been gently roused and ushered to bed. 

He sits on the bed with his jacket and waistcoat shed, head occasionally drooping again slightly before lifting up again. Richard notices, probably against Thomas' wishes, and smiles softly. 'Just a moment, now, love,' he reassures him. 'I won't be long.' With that in mind he finally finds what he'd been after in his suitcase, and eases it shut again before coming back over and sitting on the bed with Thomas, close together, side to side and hip to hip. He picks at the knot of the parcel in his lap, tied with twine, because he can tell from the softened, open look on Thomas' face that he is not awake enough to untie it himself. When that is done it is only the paper left to unfold, and he tilts his head to look Thomas in the eye. 

'Close your eyes a moment,' he requests. 'Just a moment, mind,' he adds teasingly. 'Can't have you nodding off right this second,' and gets a light shove for his troubles. 

Once Thomas has rolled his eyes and acquiesced, he finishes unfolding the paper and pulls out the gift to drape over Thomas - but drape is the wrong word, too careless to describe this particular act, gentle and measured and almost protective. He lets the item settle across Thomas' shoulders, tucks the top corners over them slightly, feels the cool expanse of his beloved's back under the shirt as he finishes up and sits back. 'There you go,' he says, and cups one of Thomas' kneecaps with one hand. (It feels, sometimes, like he cannot go without touching him.)

Thomas opens his eyes, doubtless still slightly mystified but better understanding what Richard was up to, and reaches a hand up to touch what's around his shoulders. It's a blanket, knitted in soft, thick wool of a few different colours, squares of light blue and chocolate browns and cream all knitted separately and then lovingly, carefully, stitched together. He already likes it, Richard can tell, smoothing his thumb over the repeated stitches on one corner over and over, softly, like he's stroking a cat. 'Thought we'd done presents,' he says, confused but pleased nonetheless.

'From each other, yeah. But this one's from my mum. Or - all of the family, sort of. She passed it onto me before I set off to meet you yesterday and asked me to make sure it got to you.'

'And she-?'

'Made it all herself, yeah. She has to be keen on you to do that, she doesn't hand them out to any Tom, Dick or Harry.'

'Well. One Tom and one Dick, she has.'

Richard raises a brow, reminded as he is every few minutes that he loves this man very much, and cracks a grin, shaking his head. 'Never too tired to stop being witty, are you.'

Thomas nods mock-wisely, but he seems rather pleased at that. 'It's a skill.' Then the look softens again, folds a bit and then smooths out like a handkerchief being retrieved from a pocket. 'But - really. She made it herself. For - for me.'

Richard nods. He knows it's time to tread more carefully now. 'Yeah.'

'It must've- god, Dick, it must've taken _ages_.' There is something in his voice, a growing hairline crack, and he is looking at the edges of the blanket (like he can't bear to take it off even if he wants a better look at it,) like he isn't sure if he can keep it.

Richard nods again, because in some situations he'd worry that knowing how much time went into it would make Thomas feel guilty, but in this case he thinks it'll help, to prove that care was put into it, that Thomas is cared about, by even more people that aren't Richard. 'Yeah, it did.'

'But - but _why_?'

'Like I said.' He curls his arm around the small of Thomas' back, careful not to jostle the garment, holds his gaze steadily, safely. 'She must really like you. They all do.'

'But why-' 

'Just because,' he says, firmly but nowhere near unkindly. 'They like you just because, Thomas. Because you are who you are. They've loved meeting you, the few times they've been able too so far, and mum wanted to show you that.' Thomas runs the thumb over the corner again, self-soothing. 'My sisters and I all have one,' Richard says. 'Louisa's husband was given one when mum realised he was going to be sticking around for my sister, before they married. So have all the others who've married in.' He looks at him, more meaningful than before. 'People get one to show that they've become part of the family.' 

Thomas just stops - everything. Stops everything and just looks at him, and doesn't need to say anything, because Richard knows, and when he moves forward for Thomas to lean into and the part of his shirt front Thomas' face is pressed to feels a little bit damp, he knows the cause of that too, and doesn't say anything. Nothing needs to be said, save for-

'Merry Christmas, my darling. From all of us.' 

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: There is now art of this fic by the wonderful finn aka @miphasgrce which you can see here on Twitter!!  
>  https://twitter.com/miphasgrce/status/1336342400705449984?s=19
> 
> If you were wondering where they are, one of Richard or Thomas' friends (because in my brain everyone from Turton's is fine and free and one of Thomas' many gay friends) has let them use a small house of theirs in the countryside for a few days because they're spending Christmas with someone else themselves. I hope you all enjoyed this, and have as good a December and new year as is possible right now. Take care, and wishing you all the best!


End file.
